


A Vision of Black Steel

by hunters_retreat



Series: Black Steel [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Blind Dean, Bonded Boys, Dean Has Powers, Feral Sam, M/M, Sam Has Powers, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:19:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4869851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunters_retreat/pseuds/hunters_retreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Campbell was reckless with a hot temper and a wild streak that should have kill him years ago.  The Order didn't suffer fools lightly though so it was only Dean's abilities as a hunter that kept him in their company at all.  When a hunt leads to an unexpected discovery, Dean follows his instincts and trusts where he has no reason to.  What will the Order do when they find out about the wild man following Dean around, and what secrets does this man hold for Dean's future?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Vision of Black Steel

**Author's Note:**

> written for the  for the amazing art claim I got from [](http://smut-slut.livejournal.com/profile)[smut_slut](http://smut-slut.livejournal.com/) .  This was an awesome, amazing challenge and [](http://smut-slut.livejournal.com/profile)[smut_slut](http://smut-slut.livejournal.com/) was incredible to work with.  I hope you like it hon!!  *hugs*   To everyone else, please enjoy, and go give the artist some love... because DAMN!  The art is just... brilliant!

 

  
  

[Master Art Post](http://smut-slut.livejournal.com/53619.html)

 

 

He heard the sniff behind him and bit down on his lip to keep from smiling.  It wasn’t the time or place for it, even if Sam’s sniff was as good as a full out barrel laugh from anyone else.  He didn’t allow his eyes to glance behind him either, just one step back, one step to the right, to where Sam was standing, his shoulders tall and straight, eyes glaring at the council before them.  They thought Sam’s lack of speech was a lack of intelligence and Dean wasn’t about to prove them wrong.  Not because he couldn’t, but because it was Sam’s wish, for them to think him nothing more than he seemed.  A wild man.  An untamed beast that only Dean’s sharp temper kept in line.  If only they knew… but they didn’t.  They never would.  Much like they had once underestimated Dean because of his sightless eyes.  By the time they realized Sam was so much more than a broken creature it would be too late.

“You are bound to keep this creature then?” The head of the order asked, his chin sticking out in a manner than meant disapproval and even without sight Dean could hear it in his voice. 

“Yes.”

“Even against our wishes?”

“That I hunt at all is against your wishes.  I’ll take him as mine whether you want it or not.”

“We could order him destroyed.”

Dean heard Sam moving, the shuffle of his bare feet against the granite floor, the scratch of denim and then the heat of his body against Dean’s back, standing united with him.

Dean did let out a smile then, his hand touching at the hilt of his sword.  Hidden carefully under the folds of his black trench coat was the black steel he’d been gifted by his bondmate.  A feral grown rumbled low in his companion’s throat and Dean smiled.  “Try it.”

 

 

_6 Weeks before…_  
 

Dean hated working like this, trying to partner up with a hunter who didn’t trust him to hold up his own.  It happened.  Whenever the council forced someone new to work with him they purposely left out a few details; like Dean’s blindness or his second sight that let him see far more than a pair of eyes ever could. 

It might not be so bad really, except that Dean’s temper guaranteed he never worked with the same hunter twice and the council had a bad habit of wanting him partnered up.  They never reprimanded him for working alone but he knew it, every time he walked into the council room to receive new orders that they were trying to find a way to bind him to the council, to make him a part of the order in ways he had never wanted.

He was a hunter, not a diplomat, not a politician.  The council took care of the way the world saw him and his brethren and he took care of the nasty things that went bump in the night, the things that came crawling out when the clouds rolled through the sky and made lightening dance across the noon vista. 

They said the world was changing, that once there had been light during the daytime hours and that clouds hadn’t covered the sun for all but a few patches during the day, but it made little difference to Dean.  He sometimes felt the warmth of the sun on his face, and as blessed as it felt, he was a creature of the dark and the cold of that world suited him.

The woman on his left turned to hiss something at him and he pushed her down as the hound passed where her body should have been.

“How did you-“

“Keep your eyes open,” he barked as he turned to see where the others were.  The first was already running back into the darkness, waiting for another chance to ambush them.  They were hunting Jo, going after her as the weaker hunter and Dean didn’t think she’d realized it yet. 

He heard the noise of something under the brush from the right and something else circled from the left.  They were trying to trap them in the small glade where there was little room to maneuver and even less room to fight.  Jo had a crossbow out but it would only be good for one shot.  Even if she got a good shot in it still left them with four hungry black dogs to deal with. 

A howl pierced the night and Dean’s head jerked up at the sound of it.  It wasn’t the black dogs.  It wasn’t a werewolf but it wasn’t wolf either.  It could be some other form of supernatural hound or beast but it wasn’t one Dean could recognize.  The hell hounds stopped circling at the sound and Dean could tell whatever it was that moved through the woods scared them as well. 

He pulled out the long iron blades that he carried at his belt and crouched down, trying to make a smaller target of himself.  Jo followed his movements. 

The black dogs moved as one, jumping into the small clearing without warning.  He heard Jo’s crossbow and the loud thud of her victim falling to the ground.  He just hoped her aim was true enough that he stayed on the ground.  Dean had his hands too full to check.

One hound came straight for him, teeth flashing dangerously white in the dark of the night.  He brought his arm up to use the beast’s momentum to knock it down, then sliced with the hunting knife and felt the warm splash of blood down his wrist.

He rose up high to bring the knife down to its heart but felt the bite of another hound’s teeth in his shoulder.  He screamed in pain, but it was wrenched aside before it could strike again.  Dean brought his knife down on the one beneath him, delivering the killing blow before he turned back to the others.

Another black dog jumped him but the knife ran clear through its throat as he looked over to Jo. She had her crossbow back up, sliding a new bolt in place and it brought his attention to the remaining beasts.  It was then he realized another hunter had joined into the fight. 

Dean rushed forward as the man plunged a knife into a black dog’s heart and turned to face the next one.  It was injured with blood covering its snout and it only took a moment for Dean to realize it was his blood.  The black dog was limping on one side and he didn’t know what the other hunter did to it but it wasn’t at its fighting best.  Dean moved closer but the man at his side suddenly backed away.  He crouched low and brought his knives up as if Dean was a threat to him.  He heard the zing of Jo’s arrow and the last muffled bark of the black dog but he was focusing on the other man, pulling into himself to allow his senses to take in just the man.  He didn’t like leaving Jo to have his back, didn’t trust her enough to protect him, but he didn’t know what was happening just yet.

“Dean?” Jo’s voice was threaded with caution but she wasn’t moving towards him.  She hadn’t pulled another bolt into the bow either so they were safe for the moment.

“Who are you?” Dean asked the man before him. 

Man was an interesting word for the creature that crouched there, his back to a tree, his hands up where Dean could use his sight to see the broken, dirt encrusted nails as they clutched ancient looking knives.  Runes ran up and down the blade and even if the man before him was filthy, his blades were clean.  The pants he wore were ripped and torn and the shirt on his back was little more than a rag, covering little of his torso which had a scattering of wounds alongside old scars.  His feet were bare and his mouth was open in a snarl. 

Dean held up his knives and then wiped them quickly on the cloth at his belt before sheathing them.  He held his hands back out then.  “My name is Dean.  I’m from the _Ordo Latro_ , a hunter,” he said softly. 

“Dean, this is a bad idea.”

He gave a slight grimace as the man’s eyes tracked over to Jo, his body coiling up tighter as if to strike. “Hey,” Dean moved, making sure to make as much noise as possible.  He walked slowly between the guy and Jo until the man seemed to relax a bit more.  “Jo, put the crossbow down.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Jo, put it down and back away.”

“Dean, you have no idea what he is.”

“He’s not evil Jo.  Whatever else he is, I can see that.”

“How?  You can’t-“

“Jo!”  He took a deep breath to keep from losing his temper.  He wasn’t known for keeping his temper in but he had no doubt if he lost it the man would run, or attack, and Jo would take a shot at him either way.  “Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can’t see better than you.  I thought you’d have picked up on that by now, seeing as we’ve been hunting together for two weeks.  Since it’s escaped your attention though, I can see evil.  This man might be wild, but he isn’t evil.”

“You call that a man?”

He spared a look for Jo over his shoulder, his glare causing her to take a step back.  “Go back to camp.  Clean up.  When I can, I’ll bring him back with me.  If you can’t handle it, you’re welcome to be gone by the time I get there.”

“They said you weren’t the type to take a partner but damned if they said you liked beasts over your own kind,” Jo sneered.  “Don’t look for me to be there.”

Dean’s eyes were already on the wild man as he let out a deep breath.  “Good.”

He decided to make himself more comfortable.  He sat on the ground, hoping to make his new friend a little more at ease.  He didn’t want to do anything else while Jo was grabbing her bolts from the dead black dogs.  She was muttering under her breath and he refused to remind her that his hearing was pretty damn good as well. 

He knew the elders had resorted to sending female hunters, hoping sex would entice him to form a partnership.  The sex was a nice little bonus, but it wasn’t enough to make him work with anyone long term.  He didn’t know how they expected him to choose someone to have his back when most of them didn’t trust him to take care of himself in the first place.   As good a hunter as he was, and even at his most modest he knew he was one of the best, his reputation and temper made him unpredictable.

He wasn’t the only hunter without back up but he the Order’s most defiant and he knew the people they sent were meant to reel him back into the Order’s folds.  It wasn’t happening, but as long as they kept sending him back up on the jobs he needed it, things were working out just fine by his standards.

When Jo was out of the clearing the wild man watched her go, head tilting to the side as if listening to see if she was well and truly gone.  Dean smiled at that and gave a small nod.  It took a few minutes before the man focused back on him and Dean took it as a sign that he believed Jo was finally gone. 

The wild man’s focus was intense, as if he was trying to read into the heart of who Dean was.  Maybe he was.  It was hard to tell.  Most people looked away upon seeing Dean’s murky white eyes but the man’s gaze never wavered.

Dean gave him his most charming smile, the one that usually went a long way with the women in the villages that he visited, and tried again.  “My name is Dean,” he said in the same soft voice he’d spoken in before.  “Dean,” he pointed to his chest. 

“De.” The voice was dark and rough, like his throat was thick from disuse. 

Dean gave him an encouraging smile.  “Yes, Dean.  What should I call you?”

The man sat up straight suddenly and Dean moved to his feet, hearing something in the distance.  It was too far away to make out just what it was, but the other man rushed Dean, pushing him back towards the path Jo had used.  There was something abysmal in his eyes, where a moment before there had been calm acceptance.  “What is it?” he asked.

The man pushed again and Dean stumbled back.   “De.  Go.”

He ran in the opposite direction then with a grace that spoke of familiarity and a speed that Dean knew he couldn’t keep.

He watched a few more minutes, listening to the sounds of the forest as it remained calm around him.  When the other man didn’t come back, he reluctantly returned to his camp, finding Jo was no where to be found.

 

  

 

Thunder barked in the background and Dean sighed as he watched the lightning dance across the sky.  It bothered his senses to be out in the unnatural weather.  In the ruined cities he was surrounded by enough metal and concrete to shield him from it, but out in the wilderness in the old country it grated against his sight in ways he couldn’t fully explain to the others.  He’d met a psychic once who’d understood, but then she’d tried to converse with a creature from the other side against his warning.  She’d lost not only her eyes but her tongue as well.  When Elder Winchester had touched her fevered forehead, she’d passed into a coma she had yet to wake from.  Dean mourned her loss of consciousness more than the death of any hunter he’d come across.  She had known what he was, understood what he could do, and she’d let him be the man he was without thinking any more or less of him for it.  It wasn’t a lot to ask for in life, but for him it was more than anyone else had ever given him.

There was at least one more pack of black dogs in the hills and Dean’s orders were to stay until they were all destroyed.   Three weeks in the forest and he’d found the scent of each pack.  Jo had been gone a week and was probably already telling the elders how he’d forced her to leave.  Gone a week and he couldn’t care less if she ever crossed his path again.  Gone a week, and all he wanted was for the enigmatic wild man to come back.

He didn’t kid himself about that and he made a practice of never lying to himself either.  He knew he was looking for him as he tracked the black dogs.  He knew that once the last pack was gone, he’d keep looking.  He didn’t know what else was out there, but the wild man was more interesting to him than the orders Winchester would send his way.  He was worth the ache that ran down his spine and through his limbs as the heavens shattered with lightning once again. 

The last pack’s trail was clear and that in its self bothered Dean.  No matter what else black dogs were, they were rarely easy to track.  Between bounding a few feet between marks they could also take to low lying branches and had a tendency to jump back and forth, mudding their own tracks so it was hard to figure out where they were coming or going from.  Whatever they were doing, they were chasing something, but there was no sign of whatever they’d been after.  It was either better at hiding its trail or they’d demolished it in their race.

He drew his daggers out as he came to the top of a small rise.  His senses were telling him something was waiting for him on the other side but it was neither good nor evil.  Unfortunately, not all supernatural creatures gave off an evil feel, no matter than humanity deemed them evil.  Pure intention went a long way to make something feel good or to mask the inherit immorality of their deeds.

He crouched as he moved to the only cover he had and pressed his back to the tree.  He took a deep breath, stilling his body and preparing himself for whatever was about to come.  He slowly rose up high enough to see over the ridge and then turned slightly to see around the tree.

His vision was clear but Dean couldn’t decipher what his vision was showing him.

“De,” the voice was just as rich and rough as he remembered it. 

Dean pushed away from the tree, his knives back in their sheaths as he scrambled down the rise to where the wild man stood.  It was obvious he was waiting for Dean, the pack of black dogs were strung from branches around the clearing, bleeding over the dark forest floor. 

“You did this?” Dean asked, though he knew the answer and he knew why. 

The man nodded as he came closer.  He eyed Dean cautiously and moved deliberately, his back straight, shoulders pressed back.  He was taller than Dean, broader across the shoulders and with muscles that rippled under his torn clothes, but Dean didn’t feel a threat from him.  He could be wrong, he had been in the past, but whoever the man was he was trying to please Dean.

“You don’t have to walk like that,” Dean said softly, a small smile passing his lips as the man slumped his shoulders forward immediately.  His steps were still forced but Dean didn’t say anything else.  He watched as the man walked into the center of the clearing and lit the fire that was sitting there, two logs pulled up on either side just as his camp with Jo had been set up.  He didn’t know if the man had seen them before he’d saved Dean’s life or if he’d just paid attention after, but Dean was slightly humbled that he wanted to make him comfortable.

Dean smiled and it hit him that he’d smiled more in the last few minutes than he could remember smiling in a long time.  He took a seat on the edge of one log and watched as his wild man moved closer.  He sat on one of the logs and bared his teeth in a manner Dean knew was meant to be a smile.  “So you remembered my name, huh?” he asked as he pulled one of his water skins out and took a drink.  He held it out for the other man to see what he’d do.

The wild man shuffled off the log and moved around the fire until he was resting before Dean’s knees.  He took the canteen and sniffed it lightly.  “De,” he said softly before bringing the water to his mouth. 

It wasn’t graceful, water spilling over the edge of his lips, trailing down the filth to leave a streak of paler flesh under the dirt until it disappeared into torn fabric.  He reached out and wiped at the man’s mouth without thinking, trying to dry up a little of the mess, but images flashed through his head.  He pulled back, felt the other man fall back and scramble away but it was too late.  Images of the wild flashed through his head, images of dark days and darker nights, of endless hunts, alone and uncared for, of something dark and sinister always waiting in the background to bite and kick and hurl the unworthy into the flames.

Dean’s lungs shuttered to draw breath, to draw his senses back to himself.  He closed his eyes and focused on the crash of lightning and the sense of wrong that permeated the air.  It allowed him to find his center, to be back to himself, but he already knew he was changed.  One touch and the wild man had done what the order had never been able to force him to do.

“De,” the wild man looked uncertain, his eyes dancing with a feral light that made Dean want to reach out and pull him close, let him press against Dean’s body, to wrap his fingers in thick dark locks and reassure him with touch and smell.  He swallowed against the lump in his throat but the man was already moving closer again, crouching up between Dean’s knees where the water skin lay, emptying its content without notice.  He took Dean’s hand and pressed it against his chest where his heart lay, thin fabric stretched taut to cover his life’s beating spirit.  “S’m.”

It took him a minute to understand what the man was trying to say, but he pressed Dean’s hand to his chest again and repeated it.  Dean nodded in understanding.  “Sam.”

The man smiled then, real and beautiful, not the forced thing he’d seen before.  “Your name is Sam.”  
  
 

 

He spent an hour at the campfire, watching Sam as he tried to anticipate what Dean wanted next.  Sam was trying to keep him close and Dean couldn’t help but wonder if Sam had received the same flash of insight into his head that Dean had into Sam’s. 

Dean never wanted to find a partner, let alone someone that would be able to complete the half-bond that had been left empty his entire life.  They’d tried to explain it to him, the Elders and their books and their precious Order, but they weren’t psychic.  They hadn’t had a true psychic in their midst in two hundred years.  That Dean had met another on his journeys had been purely luck on his part.  Or he’d thought so until she’d told him they tended to attract one another.  She was the one that explained his disability, not his physical blindness, but the ache in his soul that had never eased after his mother’s death.  It was the psychic’s need for a true partner, a bond that his mother would have held for him until he’d found the right person to pass it along to.  Dean was happy to have let the bond die with her.

And yet here he was, in the middle of the wilderness with a wild man who seemed to be reaching out to Dean in ways that he couldn’t deny or explain.

“Sam, I need to get back to my camp,” he said finally.  An hour around the black dog stench was more than he could handle and the lightning was getting worse.  He rubbed at his head but looked up at the choked off whimper than came from the other side of the fire.  “I have a good set up and the rest of my gear is there.  I don’t know about you, but I’d like to have my own bedroll come nightfall.”  Sam’s eyes were downcast and Dean realized that his assumption that Sam wanted this bond, that he knew what was happening, might be completely unfounded.  “Are you ready to head back there?  I assumed you’d come with me.”

Sam’s eyes lightened as he looked up and his gaze was like feeling the sun coming out from behind the cursed clouds.  Dean grabbed what little of his gear he’d dropped and started walking back up the path to his campsite with Sam trailing behind him.  He walked hunched over, knees bent and arms at the ready, eyes scanning the forest around them as if he was expecting an attack at any time.  It reminded him of the way Sam had left him the first time, forcing Dean to walk away when he’d wanted nothing more than to learn more about his new friend.  Considering how much Sam had done to get his attention again, he knew Sam hadn’t walked away of his own volition.

It wasn’t the time to ask just yet, as they walked through the darkening woods, but he would have his answers soon.

 

  

 

Dinner was quiet, the fire snapping and popping between them as Dean watched the night’s catch roast over the open flame.  He didn’t normally make the effort to catch live game when he was hunting on his own.  He’d learned to live off wild vegetation and the rations he brought with him, but Sam had snagged two hares and a quail, though how he managed a bird when he had no weapons on him was beyond Dean’s understanding. 

Sam watched the way he turned the make shift spit and reached a hand out towards it, as if to try it himself.  Dean sat back, letting Sam move closer to the fire without brushing up against him, though it was tempting to just sit there and see what he would do.  They hadn’t touched since the moment Sam had pressed his hand to his chest and Dean could see by the way Sam watched him that the visions had gone both ways.

He couldn’t help but wonder what sort of visions his mind would give.  Would his world be seen as nothing more than the black void that his life had been before his second sight had developed?  Or would Sam see his world in the same dark grays and flesh tones that Dean now saw?  Would he see the good and evil the way Dean saw it, recognize what it was in the maddening sickness that settled over the world?  Or would his mind interpret it no different from his own vision?  He didn’t have the courage to ask and he wasn’t sure Sam would have the words to answer him anyway.

Dean watched Sam turning the spit and he could see the way he sat closer to the fire.  There was enough chill in the air that Dean was glad for the dark coat that rested over his frame.  Sam was in rags though and Dean knew he had to be cold.  He got up and pulled an extra blanket from his pack horse and handed it to the wild man.   Sam looked at it for a second, something dark in his eyes as he stared at Dean’s hand, still holding out the fabric for him to take, and then he lowered his head, covering his eyes with long hair so Dean couldn’t see his expression.  He gave a small nod as he draped it over his shoulders, pulling it close around his body, grunting softly as he shivered under it.

“You’re welcome,” Dean said with a grin.  He wasn’t sure what that look was about, but there were a lot of thinks he didn’t know about Sam just yet.  He had time to figure them out though.  Whatever this was between them, this bond, it wasn’t going away.  “It’s a bit dirty.  Didn’t think you’d mind since you’re not exactly smelling pretty yourself.  There’s a river a few miles up.  We can head there tomorrow.  Got to clean up a few other things myself.  Maybe we’ll see what you look like under all that grime?  Get you something clean to wear too, though I think you’ll be stuck with those pants until we get to the village.  Nothing I have is gonna fit you.”

Sam didn’t respond, but reached his hand out to turn the spit again.

Dean still had a lot of questions, but the fire was warm and he knew Sam would protect him, that the wild man knew the dangers of the wood far better than he did.  Three weeks of always being on guard crashed down on him and the exhaustion was almost too much.  His head fell back on the log and he let out a long breath, expelling the hunt with it, the worries he’d shouldered, the fear that he wouldn’t find Sam again.  He closed his eyes and didn’t even bother to look up when he heard Sam moving around the fire, didn’t try to use his second sight to see what he could be getting into.  His lips quirked into a smile though as he felt his own blankets draped over him.

“Thanks Sam,” he said, letting a little affection show through his voice.

“Wol come De.”

Dean’s smile grew.  Who knew?  The wild man had better manners than most hunters.

 

 

 

He slept through the night without waking once.  When he did wake it was to find Sam lying at his side, wide awake, but body pressed against Dean’s.  It annoyed Dean because no matter that he trusted him, he should have woken when Sam got that close.  He wondered if it was the bond that was forming between them, but he didn’t let himself dwell on it.  He had no experience with it and the only woman who could have helped him was lying in a coma within the halls of the Order; a psychic was to be studied after all, even if she was unconscious.  Dean was just lucky they’d never found a way to hold him in the vault as well. 

Well, maybe not lucky.  He had one ally within the Order, an old hunter who had been through shit storms and kicked it’s ass out the door, as he would say. 

As Dean led Sam down to the river’s bank, he thought maybe that would be their first stop once they got out of the woods.  The village might not be a good place for Sam.  Bobby, as cynical and high-spirited as he was, could probably handle Sam a lot better.  With all his books and the research he’d done over the years, he might be able to answer a few of Dean’s questions about the bond as well.

The sun was high in the sky, the noon dance of lightning was just beginning to fade and with a heavy breakfast that morning, he was more in the mood to be clean than to eat just yet.  Dean tied his pack horse up, checking her quickly for any injuries before he ran a hand over his own horse.  “Stay Imp,” he told the black mare.  She whinnied at him, butting him lightly in the chest but Dean knew she’d stay.  She was too well trained to leave where he’d put her.

Sam watched it all with curious eyes, then ran his hand over the pack horse in a similar fashion.  Dean turned his head to keep Sam from seeing his smile.  He wasn’t some lovesick fool who doted over his sweetheart, but something about Sam made him want to protect him, to teach him everything he knew, maybe even learn from him as well. 

He grabbed his blankets and clothes from the saddle bag and made his way down to the river.  He dropped the fabric on a rock at the edge of the water where it was deepest and slowly let the black duster fall from his shoulders.  He could feel eyes on his back but he didn’t look.  Instead, he focused on everything else as he pulled his shirt up over his head.  The fabric was stiff and itchy, too long without a chance to clean himself up in the forsaken woods.  Sam’s breath was coming quicker, little puffs of air leaving his slightly parted lips.  Dean could hear the soft back and forth of his hands over the mare’s hide and how his movements stopped suddenly as Dean undid his pants and stepped out of them as well.

There was a muffled curse behind him and the heavy drop of feet that stopped a moment later.  Dean looked over his shoulder then, used all of his senses to see Sam watching him, the dark need that flared in his eyes, the beating of his heart, the rasp of his breath, the way his fingers twitched at his side before he clenched them into fists.  The fire that lit him from inside out as he looked up and realized Dean was watching him.  Dean gave a half smirk then turned back to the water’s edge and plunged ahead.

The water was cold, but not numbingly so and Dean took himself to the deepest part and ducked under.  He scrubbed at his scalp and came up for air, brushing the water out of his face.  Even at its deepest, the water came up mid torso on Dean and he leaned back to float on the water’s surface, relaxing into it for a moment, just enjoying the water on his body.

Before the second sight had come, Dean had nothing but sensation to guide him in the world and floating like this was a luxury he still enjoyed.  Immersion in water was an experience like no other, with the water lapping at his skin, the feel of air blowing over the uncovered flesh, the way sound was muffled in his ears. 

He relaxed a few minutes before he opened his eyes and stood up again.  Sam was still standing where Dean had left him, watching Dean warily.  Dean ignored him for a few minutes and grabbed the blankets and clothes, soaking them in the water before rubbing at them furiously to get out the worst of the dirt.  He’d need to get some of his things from Bobby’s before he went to see the Order again.  They liked their hunters to be out in the thick of things, but no one was allowed to show up at the Keep looking like Dean currently did.  Not unless the apocalypse was rearing its head. 

When he had his things cleaned and spread over the rocks to dry he looked over at Sam and smiled.  “Come on Sam, time to get clean.”

Sam looked at him in surprise and Dean just raised an eyebrow.  He wasn’t sure what was playing behind Sam’s eyes, but he was ducking his head again, hiding behind the lank locks.  He stepped away from the horses though and pulled his shirt over his head.  He dropped it to the ground and didn’t bother bringing it to Dean.  There wasn’t enough to wash anyway.  Dean did his best to look away as Sam unhooked his pants and let them fall in front of Dean.  His peripheral caught Sam though, miles of tight muscle, as he made his way into the water.

Dean took a deep breath and grabbed at the still warm fabric before tossing it into the water.  He did his best to clean the pants up since he had nothing that would work for Sam but in the end there was only so much he could do.  They’d have to stay at Bobby’s an extra day or two to get someone to find something suitable for him to wear.

“De?”

Dean pushed back away from the rocks, swimming back towards the voice.  Even with his eyes closed, his second sight shut tight with them, he could find Sam in the water.  His movements were a map to Dean’s senses and he smiled as he stood up.

The smile left his lips as he opened his eyes.  Sam stepped into his space, his skin red in places, but rubbed clean.  Even his hair had been scrubbed.  Dean reached a hand up and pushed the hair out of Sam’s face.  Sam watched him, his eyes flickering across his features quicker than Dean could understand. 

“De.” Sam stepped closer against and Dean caught his hip in his hand, fingers pulling him closer.  Sam brought his head down, his nose brushing just beneath Dean’s ear.  The way he moved, his neck was completely exposed, the pale white flesh just waiting to be marked and Dean knew what Sam was offering, what Sam wanted from him.  God, he wanted it too.

Dean brought his free hand up and splayed it across Sam’s neck, soft caresses as he learned that small bit of Sam’s body.  He leaned in then, his hand gripping Sam’s shoulder hard as he bit at the junction of neck and shoulder, taking Sam’s submission as his right, marking him, making him his.

Sam whimpered in his arms but pulled their bodies closer.  He wanted more than marking and Dean was more than happy with that.  “You want me to put my claim on you Sam?” he asked as his tongue lapped against the mark he’d made.  “I’m going to,” he confessed.  “Going to claim you so everyone can see you’re mine.”

“Please,”

Dean grabbed Sam’s hair and pulled his head down, crushing their lips together.  Sam begged so damn pretty and he didn’t want to wonder why that word, of all others, fell so easily from his lips. 

Dean pushed them back, walking Sam slowly to the water’s edge, never letting up enough space that his lips couldn’t meet some part of Sam’s body.  He kissed him hard, bit at his neck and lapped at the bruises he sucked into his skin.  Sam held him tight, one hand cradling the back of his head as if to keep him close and the other on Dean’s hip, as he allowed Dean to take them back to the grassy center of the clearing. 

Sam took them both down to the grass, pulling Dean on top of him.  Their lips met and Sam’s hands were pulling Dean up between his legs.  Dean worked one hand down and found Sam’s cock, hard and swollen, and wrapped his fingers around it.  Sam’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes wide as he stared up at Dean.

Dean realized then, that the creature beneath him, the wild man writhing at his touch, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.  He knew before of course that Sam was attractive, but he had no idea what was hidden behind the rags and filth and veil of hair.  Cat-like eyes and bow lips, a strong jaw and hair that framed his face like a damn painting, but underneath the flesh and bones, there was something stronger, something  ultimately good inside him that peered out from those hazel eyes.  He was exotic and intoxicating and so damn strong not even a hunter would have to worry about a partner like him.    

Sam’s hands gripped him hard enough to leave bruises but Dean didn’t stop stroking him.  He knew what he wanted, what he needed, and Sam was giving him free reign to take.  He worked his hand up and down Sam’s flesh relentlessly, gasps and moans breaching the air around them in ways that tormented Dean.  Sam’s hips thrust up into his fist but stuttered to a halt as pleasure overwhelmed him.  A low keening sound vibrated through the air and Dean milked him through his release.

Sam’s eyes were impossibly wide, his face slack as he watched Dean.  His whole body was lethargic and Dean brought his hand away from Sam, fingers trailing through his come as he brought them down further between Sam’s legs.  He teased at Sam’s opening, giving Sam a moment to understand what he was doing.  Sam was his creature now, his bondmate, his partner, and he would have this.  Sam simply watched with heavily lidded eyes.  Dean pressed in with one finger and added a second almost instantly.  He was so damn tight and it’d been way too long since Dean had taken pleasure in the flesh of another’s body.  He wouldn’t last long if he didn’t get inside him soon.  Sam tensed at the intrusion but let out a shuddered breath as his muscles relaxed into Dean’s ministrations.  He worked him open with two fingers, then added a third.  Sam’s hips began to rise again, thrusting back onto his fingers and it was more than Dean could take.  He wrenched his fingers free, ignoring the frustrated howl that left Sam’s lips, and collected the rest of Sam’s release, spreading it across his cock.  He lined himself up and pressed into the other man’s body. 

It was a slow, lazy thrust of his hips, but Sam’s body was already beginning to relax for him, the implicit trust that flowed naturally between them following in this as well.  He pressed in again and kept going until he was fully seated in his lover’s body.  Sam’s breath was sharp and shallow and Dean leaned in, pressing their lips together in a kiss that was far more assuring than their earlier, desperate kisses had been.   

Sam’s arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him there, his mouth opening for Dean as the kiss became deeper.  Sam’s body shifted slightly under him and it was Sam that began thrusting his hips, seeking the friction that Dean’s body was craving.  He didn’t stop kissing Sam, couldn’t break that connection even if he’d wanted to, but he was thrusting in and out of his body then, claiming him in a way that they both needed.

The bond, whatever it was between them, was as wild as Sam and Dean could see that it would break them eventually, tear apart the pieces of who they were and make them into something else, some other creature.  Maybe more like Sam.  Maybe it would make Sam more like him.  He didn’t care though.  Whatever it was, he was Sam’s and Sam was his and nothing would come between that. F or the first time in his life he had someone that would have his back, that would never underestimate him for his sightless eyes or doubt him because his bloodline had given him the second sight. 

Sam tore his lips away, back and neck arched as he let out a guttural moan and Dean could feel the bond running through Sam too, could feel the need to be loved, to be safe and protected, to be claimed by someone that wanted you, that would never throw you away or leave you behind.

“Mine Sammy,” Dean’s voice was gravel deep as he thrust hard into Sam.  “Always mine.”

“Aoways,” Sam agreed, “De’s.”

He didn’t know if it was the bond or not, but heat flooded his senses and as he released his seed into Sam’s body, he felt his lover splash hot across his stomach as he thrust up one last time.  He let his forehead drop to rest against Sam’s and stayed there, breath mingling as they both tried to calm their racing hearts.

After a few minutes, Dean pulled away from Sam.  He tried to disentangle himself, to give them both space, but Sam was reaching for him, pushing him onto his back.  Sam pulled in close, his arms wrapped over Dean’s chest in a gesture of claiming so strong Dean nearly laughed at it.  Instead he allowed himself to smile as his lover settled against his side.

“Mine De,” Sam said, looking up at him.

“Yeah,” he said, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to deny it anyway.  He realized then he didn’t even want to.  “You’re mine Sam, and I’m yours.  Nothing anyone can do about it now.”

He didn’t miss the darkness behind Sam’s eyes but there was still time.  Whatever haunted Sam would have to come through Dean to get him and he’d never yet met anything that could withstand the Campbell blood.

 

 

 

Sam disappeared that night with only a quick “Go.  Be back,” before he did.  Two hours later he reappeared with something in his arms.  It was battered fabric, filthy and Dean thought it had probably been buried in the mud.  Sam brought it forward to him with something like hope in his eyes and Dean watched as Sam carefully disentangled the fabric from its contents.  He had no idea what to think when Sam held out a sheathed sword.  The sheath itself was a piece of art with ornate carvings worked into the leather. 

When he pulled the sword out, it rang crisply and Dean took a moment to watch the firelight dance across the black steel.  “Sam, where did you get this?”

Sam knelt at his side and looked up at Dean with wide eyes.  “Yours.  Like Sam.  Aoways yours.”

It took three days to reach the eastern edge of the forest and Dean watched as Sam became more and more agitated.  He was asking Sam to leave behind the only home he’d ever known, to follow him into the world and Dean could understand being edgy because of that.  He could remember his own first hunting trip well enough, sixteen and sneaking out of the keep because the Council wasn’t about to let him become a hunter.  He’d disappeared for five years before coming back to the Keep, telling them everything he’d done, everything the boy with the sightless eyes had been able to overcome.  His first few nights had been hard though, enough that he’d have tucked his tail between his legs and run home if he wasn’t so damn stubborn.  Sam wasn’t alone though and Dean wasn’t going to make him brave it out like that.

The first night they camped outside of the forest, Dean pulled Sam close and pointed out the constellations he knew, telling him the stories of old and how Bobby used to make him learn them until he dreamed of Greek gods and goddesses all night long.  Sam seemed to settle into him then, relaxing in ways he hadn’t been as they walked.  In the morning, Sam smiled a little more.  He could also hear Sam’s mumblings throughout the day, though he was sure Sam didn’t realize his hearing could pick it up.  It wasn’t anything private, but Sam began to softly talk to himself.  When Dean lay down to sleep that night, he faked it for a long time, listening to Sam narrate his movements or talk about the things that had happened during the day. 

He wasn’t talking to Dean and it took a few days to realize that Sam was trying to teach himself to speak.  Whatever ability he’d once had, Sam obviously hadn’t spoken in years.  He knew the words and Dean knew that he understood everything that was said.  He just hadn’t spoken them and he was practicing the mechanics of speech, learning to get his tongue and teeth and mouth to make the right shapes.  Dean was more than a little intrigued as he listened to the words as they morphed from one sound to the next, sometimes undistinguishable from the babbling of a child but others perfectly clear. 

It was soothing and Dean found himself falling to sleep to that voice every night, a little bit of innocence in a world full of darkness, and he found he slept the better for it.

They steered away from the villages as much as possible.  Dean went in to get supplies at one, leaving Sam on the outskirts though neither was comfortable with that arrangement.  Instead of staying at the Inn for the night with a soft bed and a warm meal, Dean had headed back out, claiming urgent business so he could get back out to Sam.

The village seemed to bother Sam more than anything, the proximity to that many people, Dean thought, as they moved away from another.  It made the trip to Bobby’s longer, but it was worth it to keep the pained look off Sam’s face.

Sam seemed to draw in on himself as they walked and the longer they were out of his forest the less he was practicing his words at night.  He walked with a hunch and his arms were more often wrapped around his midsection than swinging freely.  By the time they got to Bobby’s Dean was afraid something was really wrong with Sam.  He walked with his head down, his feet shuffling through the dirt, and he no longer tried to reach out and touch Dean as he had before, no longer sought him out with eyes or hands.  It was only at night, once he finally settled against Dean next to the fire, that Dean was able to hold him close and remind him that Dean was going to take care of him, to protect him.

“I’d say that’s a sight for sore eyes, but we all know I’d be lyin’.” 

Dean smiled warmly at the affection in the old man’s voice.  He stepped up the old rickety stairs and took the offered hand as Bobby held it out, a smile warming the normally sour looking face.  Dean was one of the few hunters that Bobby let down his guard with.  He was the one that had helped Dean get out from under the Council all those years ago, the one that stood up for him when the Council called the meeting of Elders and pulled their ranks together.  Bobby was the one that had practically raised Dean in the Keep, his research anchoring him to the Keep’s library back when Dean had been just a child. 

“It’s good to see you old man,” he said, pulling Bobby close and wrapping an arm around his back.  He let his senses focus on Bobby for a moment, the feel of him pressed against his chest, the sound of his heart beating, the strength in his hands and his embrace.  He took a deep breath and smelled the herbs and wax of spell work and the must of untold books lying in his home, waiting to be stumbled over.

He didn’t realize how long he held on, remembering the sense of his mentor until the growl came penetrated his focus.  Bobby’s hands gripped him a little harder, as if to say ‘I got you’ but Dean understood that Sam wasn’t about to attack.

He smiled at Bobby and stepped back turning to look at Sam.  Sam was half crouched, his weight resting lightly on the balls of his feet as if ready to spring.  “Sam, this is Elder Singer,” he said, keeping his voice calm.  Damn, maybe Sam was about to attack.  “Bobby, this is Sam.”

Bobby looked at him like he was crazy but Dean didn’t drop his eyes and Bobby finally shook his head at turned his back to them, walking up the stairs and through the door.  “Well come on it.  I doubt you came all this way to stand on my doorstep.”

Dean waited until Bobby was inside, though he was sure the old man was listening at the kitchen window.  “Sam?  Calm down man, it’s just Bobby.”

Sam stood up then, stalking over to Dean before pressing into his space, hands wrapping around Dean’s biceps with a bruising grasp.  “Mine De,” he growled.

Dean’s jaw clenched as he understood what Sam was freaking out about.  His anger flared and he pushed back against Sam, knocking his hands away and giving them distance.  Sam started to close the distance again though and Dean shook his head.  “No, Sam.  You’re not a dog and I’m not your prize bone.  Bobby is a close friend, one of the few I have, and you’ve got no right to do this shit.”

Sam’s aggression seemed to crumple immediately and he was wrapping his arms back around himself, his eyes dropping to the ground and his shoulders slumping forward.  He couldn’t see Sam’s face through his long hair and Dean took a deep breath to calm himself before he could say anything stupid.

“Sam,” he didn’t know if Sam was even listening and it infuriated Dean to not know what was happening to his bondmate.  “Sam, come on, look at me.”

He did and his eyes gave it all away, the uncertainty and the doubt.  Dean shook his head as he closed the distance between them himself.  “Sam,” he brought his hand up to Sam’s cheek, forcing his eyes to stay on Dean’s as he spoke.  “I … yes, okay, yes I’m still yours.  You’re still mine.  Bobby is one of the few people we can really trust, both of us.  Do you understand that?  You can’t get in a pissing contest over people that might touch me.  Got it?”

Sam nodded and let out a shaking breath.  It was the best Dean was going to get just yet. Damn, he hadn’t thought about the emotional implications of bringing Sam into the world.  He thought over and over about how Sam might react to the things he’d seen or hear, but he’d never once thought about the way Sam might feel about the people Dean would have to interact with. 

He pulled Sam closer, pressing their lips together so that the bond would flare open again, letting his regret for not warning Sam about Bobby, as well as his genuine affection for Sam, to bubble to the surface of that, hoping that Sam could understand.  Sam pulled back, resting his forehead against Dean’s, but he let out another shuddered breath and nodded slightly.

“Alright Sammy?” he asked softly.  He got a small smile in return.  “Good, because I’m hungry and Bobby makes a mean stew.”

“I heard that boy.  You want some food you better get your ass in here!”

Sam’s eyes went a little wide, but there was a question in his gaze, like Bobby was now a new creature to be learned.  Well, it would make for an interesting evening at least.

 

 

 

“You gonna tell me about your boys?”  Bobby asked as Dean sat down next to him after dinner.  Sam was in the back of the house, his head buried in a book.  He’d apparently learned to read at some point, before his voice had been lost and he’d learned to be more animal than man.  It wasn’t speed reading or anything, but he was slowly but steadily making his way down the page.  The fact that Bobby was letting him read at all seemed to have settled any bad feelings that remained after the meal. 

Dean took a long pull from the bottle of homemade brew Bobby handed him, trying to get his thoughts in line before he said anything.  It was Bobby though and no matter who else he might try to hide things from, Bobby was the only one that really knew him.  He didn’t keep secrets from him.  “You know how they keep throwing every available hunter they got at me?” he asked, leaning over with his hands on his knees, staring past the table through the doorway where Sam was.   “Trying to make someone stick?”

“Yeah.”

“Sam did.”

“I kinda figured that part out, what with the growling and all.”

Dean didn’t have to use his sight to know Bobby was smiling at him.  It wasn’t just the Council of Elders that wanted him to find a partner.  Bobby didn’t like him being out there on his own, alone.  The Council wanted a way to tie Dean to them, someone that would rein him in when they wanted, but Bobby just wanted someone to have Dean’s back, someone that would make sure Dean got out alive from whatever he threw himself into. 

“I meant the rest of it Dean.”

“I don’t know what I can tell you Bobby,” Dean said honestly.  “I do have some questions though.  I was hoping with all your books and research you might be able to tell me something about the psychic bond.”

He turned his head slightly to watch as Bobby spit the brew out, nearly chocking.  “Of all the goddamn fool things!”

Dean was ready for the rest of it, for the full tirade but he looked up at Bobby’s speechlessness and realized it was because Sam was in the room again, eyes watchful but body ready to strike.

“Sam, its fine.  You can go back to your reading if you want.”  Sam looked up at Dean then back at Bobby, his head dropping slightly in embarrassment.

“Hey kid,” Bobby said, walking over to Sam’s side.  Dean wasn’t sure it was such a good idea, but Bobby was just as stubborn as he was.  “Its good to see you’ve got his back.  He’s not always smart enough to know when he needs someone.”

Sam looked up, watching Bobby for a hint of sarcasm, but when he found none, he gave Bobby a crooked smile.  “I got De’s back,” he agreed as he looked over at Dean.  “De is mine.”  He walked back to his book then Dean just watched him go with a shake of his head.

“Now that ain’t courting trouble.”

“What have you got him reading anyway?” Dean asked, trying to bring his mind away from the way Sam’s eyes had flashed at him for just a moment, the dark need buried in the depths of his look. 

“It’s one of the primer books they made to teach the kids of the Order.  Mostly just history about who we are, how the sky was turned against us, and why we fight.”

Dean huffed.  “Hated those damn history lessons.”

“Yeah, but you learned it anyway.”

“Is he, can he read okay Bobby?”

“You worried?”

“It’s not like I can really check up on him.  It’d be nice if one of us could read more than the basics.”

“Dean,”

“I know Bobby, you’d teach me if I stuck around.  Hell, you were the one that stuck it out and taught me Braille before the second sight came.  I don’t doubt you have the patience to teach me again, but I don’t have the patience to learn how to read by sight.  I’m just interested in seeing that he gets the help he needs.  Maybe you can loan us a book or two on the way out even?”

“Maybe.  So long as it isn’t something I’m gonna cry over when you use it for kindling for some poor soul’s body.”

Dean smirked.  “Yeah, good idea.”  He took another drink.  “So, about the bond?”

“You really think Sam is gonna ground you?  I don’t mean this as a put down to him Dean, but he’s not exactly grounded himself, is he?”

“He’s wild Bobby, feral, like he’s been taught to be nothing more than one of the black dogs I was hunting, but he still remembers Bobby.  He wasn’t like that once.  Whatever did that to him, it’s still out there in the old forest at Olgave Lake.”

“Sounds like you have a hunt in mind.”  
“Just gonna clear it with the Council before I head back in.”

“You never stopped to get their okay before.  Why this time?”

“Because I wanted to get Sam out and give him time to adjust to me before we went back in.  Because I wanted to see if the Council knew anything about what was out there already.  There were four packs of black dogs Bobby, four in the same area of the forest.  Something is calling them there and forcing them to behave.”

“Think Sam can tell you what it is?”

“He knows.  I haven’t asked yet though.”

“Why the hell not?”

“The bond.”

“You think whatever he says will keep you from bonding him?  That’s a damn fool reason to go into a hunt in the dark.”

“No Bobby,” Dean said, standing to walk over to the door frame.  He watched as Sam set his head on his forearm, holding the book at a strange angle so he could continue reading.  “I haven’t asked because we already have.”

Bobby didn’t say anything and Dean looked back to find something unreadable in the other man’s eyes.  “Whatever it is, it took a child and made it into a wild creature.  He’s terrified of whatever is out there.  I needed to settle the bond more before I felt I could ask, before I felt the bond would be strong enough to face whatever this is.  It’s why I came to you Bobby.  I need to know what you know about the psychic bond.”

Bobby shook his head and opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.  Finally he let out a deep breath.  “Take Sam up to your room and get some sleep.  I’ll see what I can have for you by morning.”

“Thanks Bobby.”

He started to walk out of the room but Bobby grabbed him by the wrist.  He was one of the few people that Dean wouldn’t pull away from.  “What I do know is that people who try to force their bond almost always have trouble.  If this happened naturally, you should be alright.  So tell me, did you force a bond on him to tame him?”

Dean let out a soft snort that had Sam looking up at him from the other room.  He motioned Sam to him and his wild man came immediately.  “I didn’t Bobby.  It was just there, this fascination with him, since the moment I laid eyes on him.”

Bobby let out his own snort as Sam came up to Dean’s side, eyes half lidded but his gaze intense on Dean.  “Well that explains why Jo didn’t like him.” 

“She put him in her report.” Dean sighed.

“Yeah, but I bet you could sneak Sam right under her nose and she’d never know it was him.  This is a far cry from the wild creature she claims you let go in the wilderness.”

Dean laughed lightly and Sam smiled, his fingers reaching out to touch the upturn of Dean’s lips.  “Good night Bobby.”

“Night boys.”

 

 

 

“It’s only when he’s outside.”

Dean looked up at Bobby, watching the way Sam was huddled into himself again.  He was running barefoot through the yard, training with a set of knives that Bobby had lent him.  He was a natural with the knives, whether throwing or fighting.  Dean had tried to spar with him but Sam wouldn’t advance against him so Bobby had tried.  That didn’t last long as Sam managed to get the knives from him in just a few minutes, pressing him to the ground with a knife to his throat.  After that, Bobby has set up the training course to see what damage Sam could do there. 

“Is it the bond?  Is he sick?  I don’t get it Bobby.  He was fine before we left the forest.”

“You ask him about it?”

Dean looked at Bobby for a second, and then walked out the back door.  Sam looked up instantly, smiling as he saw Dean.  He moved straight into Dean, his arms wrapping around him and pulling him close.  Dean let him for a second, but if the bond was making Sam sick he didn’t want to continue to open him up to it.  “Hey, need to talk to you for a minute.  You mind coming in?”

Sam shook his head, looking up at the sky like he thought it might open up and rain on them.  Dean looked up himself, ignoring the brackish look of the world.  No lightning today, but there hadn’t been any sun either.  The scientists would go on and on about how the plants could survive with only this half-haze of the sun, about the pigments and light absorption and the prevalence of certain colored plants now, but he didn’t understand.  He’d never seen the sunlight, but he could feel it on his body sometimes, would catch the heat of it on his face on the rare occasions it showed through and he didn’t know how a creature made for the light could survive without it. 

He thought maybe Sam was one of those creatures, but Dean was made for this world.

They took a seat at the table with Bobby, though Sam pulled his feet up under him, chin on his knees as he sat there.  He didn’t find chairs all that comfortable, unless it was Bobby’s long couch where he could stretch his legs out. 

Bobby got up and gave Sam a cup of water to drink.  Sam’s instincts, they’d learned the second night, went from protective to downright animalistic with a little alcohol in his system and Dean had been given no choice but to lock both himself and Sam away in his room once they’re realized that.  Thankfully Bobby found the whole damn thing hysterical.  Unfortunately, Dean was probably never likely to live down the howling Bobby had heard later that night.

“Sam, are you feeling alright?”  Bobby asked as he pulled the chair beside Sam out and took a seat.  Sam nodded, pressing the cool of the glass against his face.

“Sam?” Dean waited for Sam to look at him and he tried again.  “What’s happening outside?”  No reason to beat around the bush.  “I know something has been bothering you and Bobby noticed it seems to be happening outside.  I want to know.  Did something happen?”

Sam looked down into the glass, shifting until he was sitting up like they were.   “Not bad,” he said firmly.  “Can’t take it back De.”

His voice wasn’t as raw as it had been when they’d met and Dean was surprised at how quickly Sam had learned to use his voice again.  He was a quick study, obviously intelligent, and determined.  He wondered what Sam would have made of himself if his life hadn’t brought him to that forest. 

“What can’t I take back?”

Sam stood up and went to look out the window.  He winced, something Dean had seen more than once in the last few days.  “The sky is wrong.”

“Wrong?” Bobby asked.

“Evil.  Bad.  Like creatures in the forst,” Sam said without looking at them.  “Hurts to see.”

“Jesus,” Dean wiped his hand across his face.  “I’m doing this to you.”

Sam looked back at him with wary eyes, but he nodded just the same.

“Dean, you wanna explain that comment?”   Bobby asked.

“I never thought he’d see it like I do.  I had this vision Bobby, through the bond, of Sam’s life, of his world.  It’s how I know there’s something else out there that we have to hunt.  I thought Sam got something from me too but he wasn’t really talking that much and I figured we had time to work things out if he had questions.  Hell, I figured all he’d see was black, not like my vision would give him anything, but what he got wasn’t my sight, but my second sight.”

“And that tells him the sky is evil?”

Dean looked at Bobby and he realized that they’d never really discussed what he saw, the differences that he’d learned over the years between his sight and what other people saw.  Bobby knew he could see if someone was possessed but he didn’t really understand the extent of what Dean saw. 

“Yeah Bobby it does.  I can see evil as clear as you see the lettering on your books.  I see it in people and animals that are grown twisted, I see it in plants where witches use ceremony to make them grow, and I see it in the sky, like this nauseating pulse every time the lightning flashes.  There are times when I’m riding with Imp that I have to just let go and trust Imp to get me home because the evil makes me so ill I have to shut off my sight.  I never-” he stopped and looked over at Sam.  “I never thought you could see that Sammy.  I’m so sorry.”

Sam came over to his side immediately, sliding to his knees to bury his head in Dean’s stomach.  “Better here,” Sam voice was muffled by the fabric and Dean brought one hand down to softly caress Sam’s long locks. 

“You mean when you’re touching me?”

“Yes, still good here.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“I’ve been saying it for years,” Bobby gave him a teasing smile.

“The bond flares when we touch.  I’ve been trying to avoid touching him when I could because I didn’t want to make it worse but Sam was reaching out because he needed to be grounded against it.”

Bobby shook his head.  “Look, sounds like you figured this part out on your own.  I need to go into the village to see about those supplies.  The council ain’t gonna wait much longer for you to come to make report.  I don’t think any of us wants to see what would happen if they sent men to come claim you.  Sam wouldn’t take to that I don’t think.”

Dean let out a harsh bark and Sam pressed harder into his side, his arms coming up to wrap around Dean’s waist now that Dean wasn’t trying to keep the contact light.  “Yeah, I was thinking of heading out tomorrow if they have everything we need.”

 “I’ll see to it.  Get him some rest,” Bobby said as he nodded to Sam.  “I can fill you in on the rest of what I found about the bond on our way to the Keep.”

 

 

 

 

 

It took four days to get to the Keep and then they were taken to their quarters there, Sam taken with Dean when both Bobby and Dean claimed he couldn’t be separated from them.  It was juvenile and pointless but that was the will of the Council, to be left waiting in their rooms like bad children as the elders discussed what to do with them. 

It was one of the many things the Elders did that made Dean a less than perfect member of _Ordo Latro_.  Dean was a hunter through and through, had been born and bred for it, but the Order wasn’t very friendly with psychics to begin with and they certainly had never known what to do with the blind child in their midst who wanted to learn to be a hunter.  They knew less what to do with him when his abilities manifested at 12.  He’d already learned how to navigate the world with his blindness by then though, knew how to tell their moods by the way their words were spoken, to know the emotions behind it by the silences and shuffling between the words.  He knew when they lied, and perhaps worse to the Order than knowing, Dean confronted them about it. 

So it was no surprise to find himself waiting most of the day for the Council to call him from his chambers.  He had at least had time to dress Sam properly and instruct him on the proceedings, because no matter how informal they claimed to be, no meeting with the Council of Elders was ever completely informal. 

He made his way, black pants and shirt clean and freshly pressed, his long duster breezing behind him with Sam’s sword strapped at his hip.  Sam was at his back, a clean shirt, stretched tight over his chest showing the impressive muscle he had and new jeans replaced the poorly fitting clothes Dean had loaned him.  His hair was clean, cut even, but still long and when Sam looking up from under his hair, he could still intimidate.  Dean didn’t bother to try to look back at him, but his bare feet shifting on the rock gave away his position easily enough, just a step back and to the right of Dean.  He was a shade too close to be considered proper for the Council, but Dean couldn’t care less.  He was there to get out to a new hunt and to inform them that he no longer needed a partner. 

   
 

 

The council members stood behind their raised desks, their eyes looking down as Dean walked into the room.  It was more like an arena with the platform area above and the person seeking audience below.  He wondered if it bothered the other hunters, to come in and have to look up like that, but Dean didn’t let the trick bother him.  It never had.  Maybe because he’d grown up in these halls.  Maybe because Bobby used to sneak him up there sometimes and he’d play underneath the table or read his books hidden beneath his feet.  Bobby was up there now of course, the last true hunter in the council.  They’d all given up the life a while ago, stuck to research and libraries and telling others what to do and where to go.  Bobby said they were pushing him to give in, to stop running off to play at a younger man’s game but he still held out. 

Dean was grateful of at least one friendly face when they entered the room, having left Dean to wait there for them the past ten minutes.  They really liked their games and especially with Dean who never did what he was supposed to.

They filtered in and Dean kept himself calm.  He could feel Sam behind him, one step back and one step over.  He closed his eyes for a moment and really looked at Sam without turning his head to give it away as he usually did.  He stood stock still, straight as a board.  His hands were clasped behind his back and his eyes were hard as he looked up at the men of the council.  Nothing about him said ‘wild man’; nothing would make them think twice about him, except that he was an unknown. 

When he opened his eyes he focused ahead of him, looking up at the Council members, twelve grizzled men who had once been hunters, who had failed in their lifetime to stop the darkness that surrounded them now.  Twelve men trying to right the wrongs done to the world when hell was unleashed on their watch.

“Dean Campbell,” The head of the order spoke his name and Dean had to force himself not to flinch.  When the man spoke even the gates of heaven felt cold and icy, his emotionless tone felt more at place at a funeral pyre than a meeting of peers.  “Your last partner came back a full two weeks ago to report on the Olgave Lake assignment.  Is there a reason we’re just getting you back now?  Some problem you need to report?”

They wanted it to be.  They wanted to know what Dean had gotten lost or had been robbed or something equally as mundane so they could try to force him to stay closer to the Keep, where they could keep an eye on him, on the abilities he had. 

“Jo Harvelle left after we killed the third pack of black dogs in the lake area.  The next day, I found another trail that I believed was fresh so I continued on without her.”

“She said there was a disagreement between you and you told her to go.”

Dean didn’t answer.  There was nothing to say to that anyway.  Jo had obviously told them about it and he was sure they knew what the fight had been about.  He’d given her a choice to stay or go but they didn’t care about that. 

“She said you refused to kill something in the woods, that you were letting sentimentality get in the way of the hunt.”

Dean scoffed at that.  “She believed the creature was evil, even thought he had just saved me from a black dog.  I told her I could see that he wasn’t evil, just wild, and she refused to believe.”

“We don’t allow evil creatures to stalk the world Campbell.” Elder Winchester said harshly.  “What proof do you have, other than your sight, that the creature wasn’t evil?”

“When have we ever asked for more proof than his sight?” Bobby interjected from his seat at the far side of the council.  Rumor said that once upon a time the two had been close.  A disagreement sent John Winchester a step ahead of Bobby’s shotgun and since then their arguments on the council had become epic.  Bobby never said if it was true or not, but Dean knew him well enough to see the look that sometimes passed his eyes when he looked at the head of the order.  It looked a lot like regret.

“When we have to good hunters claiming something different.”  Winchester stated evenly, though Dean was sure the Elder was thrilled to have a reason to question Dean. 

“The creature Jo mentioned was nothing more than a man.  He was not possessed, simply wild.  He was aggressive in his fight against the black dogs and saved my life.  I cannot attest to why Jo thought he was evil.  There is, however, something else evil in those woods.  We killed four packs of black dogs in the Olgave Lake forest.  Something is calling them there, keeping them.  I want to go back and find it, destroy whatever it is.”

“It’s hardly like you to leave a hunt and come back to the Council for permission.”  Father Jim pointed out.  Of the Elders at that council, Father Jim was the kindest of them.  He had a fondness for Dean but Dean had grown out of the codling ways of the priest long before the second sight had come.  Father Jim looked at him as someone who needed help, guidance, and physical support.  He could never see Dean as anything more than the child he’d once been.  Dean had a hard time being around him.

“Whatever is in those woods is big Father,” Dean said respectfully.  “I thought the Council should know of it before I headed in.”

“Meaning you need new back up.” Elder Winchester took over the conversation again.  “It will take time to find another hunter willing to work with you.”

Sam shuffled a little closer, still keeping his distance but it drew all eyes to him.  “I have no need of back up.  This is Sam, my partner and bondmate.”  Dean smiled up at the Council then.  “He is also the evil creature that Jo wanted to kill.”

 

  

 

 

“You are bound to keep this creature then?” The Elder asked. 

“Yes.”

“Even against our wishes?”

“That I hunt at all is against your wishes.” Dean answered.  “I’ll take him as mine whether you want it or not.”

“We could order him destroyed.”

Sam moved up behind him, a feral grown rumbled low in his throat and Dean smiled.  “Try it.”

 

 

 

The council shuffled back and forth and their whispers about impudence and audacity and disrespect might have been better hidden had they remembered Dean’s gifts but they were old men, too far removed from the hunt to remember what it was like to have to move in the dark where a single snapped branch or a catch of the breath could give away your position to the creatures that hunted the night.

The whispers died down until finally the head of the council spoke again “You need to understand this, my child,” only a barely heard gasp breeched the silence as the Elder made use of the rumored connection between them. 

Dean Campbell was nobody’s son; just a blind orphan left to the order when his mother, a hunter, had died at a demon’s hand.  Rumor had it that she’d started an affair with a rising hunter to gain access to the inner circle, but no one would say if she had succeeded in winning the heart of John Winchester or not.  If she had, if he had indeed sired a child by her, no one would ever suspect it from the way he treated Dean.

“Whatever this creature does, you are responsible for him now.” The Elder’s voice was solemn.  “If you take him as yours, if you leave this room now, when the time comes to take his head, we will come for yours as well.”

Dean bowed his head slightly as he turned, Sam moving automatically to find his place at Dean’s back.  “Come on Sammy,” he said as he stalked out of the room.

“Dean, this creature will be the death of you.  He will steal everything that you are.”

Sam let loose a laughing howl and Dean smiled as he continued walking.  The doors shut behind him bringing with it a sense of finality and Dean breathed in the cold mountain air as he gazed across the darkened sky.

Steal everything he was?  They had no idea.  With this bond between them there was nothing Sam could steal that Dean wouldn’t give willingly.

 

 

 

Dean stared down at the woman before him and let his eyes close, using his second sight the way she’d begun to teach him so many years before.  She wasn’t awake to recognize him, but whenever he dropped his shields there was a sense of something, of ease or recognition that made Dean hope she’d some day wake.  He wasn’t sure if he hoped for it or not.  He didn’t think the Elders would let her go the way they did Dean.  If the day came, Dean would be forced to choose between setting her free and abiding by the Council law.  If the day ever came to pass, he was sure it would be the last time he was welcome in the Keep. 

Sam was moving at the back of the room, his fingers brushing over the words of tomes that had been left out by the others.  It was a room to study, a room to learn, and Sam was fascinated by the text there.

“What are you looking at, Samuel?”

Dean looked up to see Father Jim walk in, though his eyes were entirely on Sam.  Sam eyed the man a moment and looked back at Dean.  Dean just gave a half shrug with a crooked smile.  Father Jim wasn’t a bad man, nor was he the hard ass the rest of the Council tried to be.  Dean just didn’t like his brand of pity. 

“Bond,” Sam said softly as he pointed to the book.  “Psychic bond.  Just reading about it.”

“I wasn’t aware that you could read.”

Sam smiled at Jim, something amused.  “I wasn’t aware Council cared.  Want to hunt me, kill me like an evil thing.”

Jim’s smile faded and Dean could see the edge coming out in him. 

“Leave him be Jim,” Dean said softly as he continued to look at Pamela.  “Just because the Council wasn’t interested in learning about him doesn’t mean he isn’t worth knowing.”

“I’m interested,” Jim said just as quietly.  “You do tend to attract the strange ones Dean.”

Dean let out a huff of bitter laughter.  “Lets hope it ends better this time.”

“You didn’t do this to her.”

“No, I didn’t.  But I couldn’t stop it.”

It was an old fight and one Dean was glad to see Jim drop.

“So, bondmate?”

Dean cringed.  He really didn’t want to have this discussion but he should have known the Council wouldn’t let him go without getting more information.  Bobby would never turn his back on Dean and they knew it so they’d send Father Jim instead.  It was comfort of a sort, that Bobby still thought of him over the Council and that Father Jim still cared enough to be the first one to come to him.

“You were constantly telling me I needed a partner.  I finally found one and you don’t like it?”

Jim shook his head.  “Just amused at your choice.”

They both looked up as Sam growled softly from the other side of the room, watching them over the top of the book he was perusing. 

Sam’s eyes reached his and Dean didn’t try to pull away from the look.  Instead he just continued talking to the Elder.  “He’s unlike anything you’ve ever met.  He took out an entire pack of black dogs to get my attention.  Didn’t balk at walking away from the forest he’d lived his whole life.  He followed me through it all without complaint.  Whatever he is, he’s loyal and good and a hunter the likes of which the Order should be proud to have.” 

Sam’s lips quirked up in a small smile.  “You have me.  Don’t need Order.”

Dean smiled at that.  “That’s for damn sure Sammy.”

He couldn’t look away for a minute.  Sam was the only one who held his gaze long, the only one who didn’t see sightless, murky white eyes, but saw past all that. 

Father Jim coughed and Sam looked away as if he expected something to attack.  It was the hunted way Sam moved, in the way he viewed the world, that made Dean want to go back to the forest so bad.  Whatever had happened to Sam, the creature there was responsible for it and Dean wanted to make him pay for that, for every deep growl Sam let out and every attack he imagined throughout the day.

“The Council is willing to back you up on this mission Dean.  Supplies are being readied for you.  If there is anything special you need, let me know and I’ll see to it they’ve stocked it for you.  Winchester thinks you mean to leave tonight.  Singer said in the morning.  When should I have everything ready?”

Dean looked at Sam and the way his fingers brushed over the words, almost as if they were the Braille that Dean read.  Sam would probably like Braille.  He was tactile, enjoyed the physical feel of things.  He shook his head at his own romantic notions and looked at Jim.  “In the morning.  I think I might have to fight Sam if I don’t give him at least a night to read.”

“About that,”

“I don’t know Jim,” Dean admitted honestly.  “He hasn’t offered up any details about his past and I haven’t asked.”

“You think that’s a good idea, considering where you’re about to go?”

“Plenty of time on the journey there old man.”

Father Jim let out a small laugh. “You always did like to throw yourself into things half blind.”

Dean didn’t have to look at him to see the flinch as soon as the words were out.  “Sometimes half-blind is the only way to be.  Sometimes people have the whole story and still can’t see what it means.  Maybe there are still some things I can’t see,” Dean added, looking back over at Sam, “but Sam sees the rest for me now.  Don’t need anything more than that.”

“He’s good for you.”

“I thought the Council didn’t approve?”

“Elder Winchester doesn’t approve.  The Council is withholding judgment.  Elder Singer approves of him and after watching the two of you together, I do too.  Wild or not, he’ll take on the world for you Dean.  It’s not a gift many people receive in this world.  It’s not something many people give, but I see it in both of you.  Maybe the books were right.  Maybe, just maybe, you needed to find this bond to settle your wandering ways.”

Sam let out a howling laugh and Dean didn’t bother to hold his back.  “Maybe Father Jim, or maybe it set me on the path I’ve always been following.  I’m more at home in the wild than the Keep.  I think Sam and I will do just fine the way we are.”

Their leave taking was done before most of the Keep was awake.  The staff was busy in the kitchen but other than Bobby and Father Jim there was no one to say farewell to.  He knew if he went up and knocked that Elder Winchester would be awake, that he would be watching out the high window of the Keep where his rooms were, watching them go.  He knew if he looked with his second sight that he would see him there, face impassive as ever.  His second sight saw more than just that though and it was perhaps that sight that made him want to leave the Keep as soon as possible.  The knowledge that no matter what he said or did, no matter how good he was, no matter that they both knew the rumor were true, he would never be able to call the man father.

Sam rode an old mare out of the Keep but Dean knew before long his partner would be running alongside them instead of riding.  He didn’t like riding the beasts any better than they liked the wild man on them but he did his best to appear like the man he could be while they were in the Keep.  Dean wasn’t sure if he appreciated Sam’s attempt to fit into that life or if he resented it. 

In his mare’s saddle packs were his regular supplies, enough to keep him going should they lose each other and the pack animal along the way, but tucked in tenderly with his spare clothes were a couple of books that Bobby had managed to sneak out to him.  He told Dean there were extra copies of the text lying around and one had been on psychics which had fascinated Sam.  The other was on demons, which Sam seemed to be as engrossed in as he was repulsed by it.  Bobby pointed out the likelihood that Sam had had dealings with one in the past but Dean didn’t need Bobby to figure that one out.

The weather was holding well as the harsher edge of fall was creeping up on them and Dean watched as Sam slid off the mare and tied her to the pack horse so she wouldn’t stray away from them.  He came up to Dean and placed his hand on his leg, letting it rest there as they walked.  It seemed to help keep the ugliness at bay for Sam.  The way Dean saw the world crept through the bond to Sam and while Dean had grown immune to the nauseating flashes of lightning and the dark gray clouds, it was still new to Sam. 

“Alright Sam?” Dean asked as he looked down at him.  It was a novel experience since Sam towered over him and Sam quirked his lips up as if reading Dean’s thoughts.

“Good,” his words were soft, thoughtful.  “Doing the right thing,” he added after a moment, “going back home to kill the evil creature.”

Dean smiled, wondering what Jo would think of Sam’s joke.  She’d been an alright partner up until then.  Not near as good as Sam with the way he accepted Dean’s sight and never second guessed his word, but she’d been about as good as the Order was ever going to send him.  In time, they probably could have developed something.  He had Sam though and Jo was probably happy wherever she was, hunting without him. 

“Speaking of which, you wanna tell me what we’re up against here?” Sam looked up quickly then looked away.  “I didn’t want to force you to talk about it but we’ve got a lot better chance of coming out of this alive if we know what it is.”

Sam took a shuddering breath and Dean could see the way he steeled himself.  “Father.”

“Your father?”

Sam nodded then shrugged.  “Took me from mother as a child.  Brought me here, taught me.  Raised me.”

There was something sad in his voice and Dean wasn’t sure how to take that.  “He turned you into a wild beast Sam.  He didn’t care for you.”

Sam sighed.  “Did once.  Before.  I stole something from him.”

“Why?”

“Wanted me to be like him but father isn’t good.  Evil.  Can see it, even with plain eyes,” Sam looked up, a small smile on his face.  “Took because it was the only thing he was afraid of.  Hurt me after that.  Didn’t trust me, but only I knew where it was.  Couldn’t kill me, couldn’t make me tell.  Make me like the black dogs, other children see and do better.  None so smart as Sam though, Father says to them.  Make them hate me.  Hate them back.  Never trust.  Demons lie.”

“Your father is a demon?”

Sam nodded.  “Looking for me now.  Feel it.”

“How?”

“Psychic.”

“You’re psychic?  Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Pamela.  Saw her in your head first time.  You don’t like how the Order looks at psychics.  Didn’t want to be left behind.”

Dean pulled Imp to a stop and jumped down off the horse so he could stand face to face with Sam.  “I’m not leaving you behind Sam, no matter what.  But I need to know more.”

Sam nodded.  “Everything Dean.  Yours.”

Dean pulled him close, felt the slight shiver that went through him that Dean knew was relief, and pulled back just enough to press their lips together.  There was no passion there, just the comfort that Sam needed, a reminder that he was cared for, that whatever this was, they’d face it together.  When he looked up into Sam’s eyes, Sam finally gave him a real smile. 

He mounted up then and they continued on their way.  He felt lighter though, could see the way Sam’s steps were lighter as well.  Maybe, just maybe he’d really gotten through.  Maybe Sam realized he wasn’t getting left behind this time.  If not, Dean had all kinds of time to prove it.

 

 

 

Sam’s past wasn’t something to listen to lightly and Dean winced more than once at the things he’d gone through as a child.  He’d been taken from his mother at the age of six and he’d never seen her again.  There were other children there but none that had Sam’s potential, his father often told them.  All of them.  It made things fierce between his siblings, always trying to one up the other to make their father look at them, but Sam took to things naturally and it showed.  He didn’t have the killer instinct in the beginning and it was the one thing his father criticized him for.  Until Sam was twelve.  That was the year he learned that the demon hadn’t just taken Sam, but killed his entire family to make sure he never had anywhere else to turn.  Sam had run then, took the only weapon his father feared, and ran.  He hid the sword somewhere in the forest and no one had been able to find it.  His father had tortured Sam but he didn’t give up the location.

He was put in a collar then, forced to the floor like one of the dogs.  He lived off scraps when someone would throw them to him or he fought with the black dogs over them.  He became the lesson all his siblings learned by, see how the high have fallen.  In all that time though, Sam never gave up the location of the sword and he never forgot who he was.

Sam didn’t sleep that night but when Dean went to his bedroll, Sam was beside him, pulling Dean on top of him, lips demanding as his hands pushed away cloth and reached for flesh.  It wasn’t the need for comfort, but the need to be claimed again and Dean didn’t hesitate to give Sam what he needed.  In fact, after the telling he had his own need to remind Sam of where he belonged, of who would care for him from then on.

The next morning Sam was more settled and he told Dean more about his siblings.  None remained in the forest, none but Sam who had never been allowed to leave.  Sam was the strongest of them, the best hunter, and the fastest.  His psychic gift was telekinesis, something he used as needed but it wasn’t something he was proud of.  He associated it with his father and Dean could understand why he preferred not to use it.

Sam didn’t have a lot to tell and Dean didn’t push for much more than he offered.  Instead, he talked about the forest as they walked, his voice quiet as he spoke of his favorite places.  Dean let him talk, marveling at the way he’d learned to speak again, because of them and the bond between them. 

When they reached the forest, Sam took the lead.  He knew the way and he knew his father’s traps better than anyone.  There was no telling what he’d managed to call back into the forest since Sam had left.

“He will have surprises,” Sam said as they sat staring at the fire the first night in.  “He will know I was gone.  He will… be unhappy.”

Dean would have laughed at the understatement but the haunted look in Sam’s eyes was nothing funny.  “Sam, you don’t have to do this.  I can do this myself, it’s what I’ve spent my life doing.”

“No De,” there was no anger in his voice but there was no fear either, just the determination to do what he must.  “I do have to do this.”  There was nothing else to say so Dean just nodded, letting Sam lead the way through the thick trees. 

 

 

 

It had taken three weeks to travel back to the forest and another week inside before Sam brought to the edge of a small valley.  There were three paths that made their way down and Sam picked what looked to be the hardest.  “Less traps,” Sam whispered as they moved down the pathway.  They’d heard the howling black dogs in the middle of the night two nights back and they knew another pack had been called in while they had been gone.  Dean hadn’t seen any active sign of them so it seemed likely they were a new addition to the forest, still keeping to the center of their new territory until they learned it well enough to spread out.

The building at the center of the valley was more like a manor house, not a keep like the Order kept, but there was magic in the air.  Dean could see the wards and spells written in blood the way an ordinary person could see words written in a book.  The wrongness of each stood out even in the midst of a valley of wrong.  Dean reached out as they stopped, Sam crouched low at his feet as Dean peered out across the way, his fingers tangling in Sam’s hair.  Sam had become less susceptible to the evil Dean saw, but this place dripped with it in ways Dean had never seen before.  He felt Sam’s soft shuddering breath and relaxed a little himself.  He hated to admit that they’d been right, but the bond was Sam was grounding him here where his vision could have drove him over the edge into the madness that waited his kind. 

When Dean pulled his hand away Sam looked up but didn’t speak, just nodded towards the clearing.  There were other buildings along the way, enough that they could hide in shadows as they approached.  Sam said his siblings had long gone and that worked to their benefit, but that didn’t mean the demon in there didn’t have anyone else to back him up. 

Dean started to walk forward but Sam wasn’t moving.  “Sam?”

“De,” Sam looked down at the small space between them, and then looked up.  “Dean, whatever happens, I’m yours.  I wouldn’t change that.  No matter what Azazel does-“

“Azazel?”

“My father.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean closed his eyes at the fury that suddenly ran through his veins.  He kept his body still, kept himself from running forward because Sam was still with him and he wasn’t about to get them both killed, but it was a near thing. 

“De?” There was a tone in his voice that spoke of panic and Dean looked down to see Sam’s hand gripping Dean’s wrist to pull the bond close.

“Azazel killed my mother.”

Sam’s hand moved up to his face, cupping his chin as he forced his eyes up.  It struck him as funny at that moment, the way Sam was trying to make eye contact when Dean didn’t actually use his eyes for sight.  Dean did use it as his focal point though, somehow forcing his second sight to take the form of something he’d never had and twisting it until it was natural to turn his head where he wanted to see, to allow the placement of his sightless eyes to dictate his field of vision unless he concentrated on it.  “I’m so sorry.”

Dean shook his head, pulling away from Sam slightly.  “Not your fault Sammy,” he said softly.  “I just… they said he hid so deep they’d never heard from him again.  I looked for him when I started hunting but they were right.  He just disappeared.  Now I know where he went.”

Sam didn’t say anything but when Dean started to turn away he pushed in front of him, taking the lead.  He had to fight back his instinct to go charging in ahead of Sam and it was only partially because of his need for revenge.  He knew though, that as much as he wanted to protect Sam and keep the demon from being able to hurt him again, he needed to let Sam take the point.  Sam had a better chance at getting them in undetected and that could mean all the difference in the world on a hunt.

They made it into the valley without any trouble, though Sam had them sidestepping a few traps that were subtle enough to have fooled the unsuspecting.  They didn’t head directly for the manor house though; instead Sam pulled them away into a thick bramble.  It was a huge bush but it had been carved out at the center.  The thick stems and tough leaves gave plenty of cover from prying eyes and though it was still a distance from the manor house, it gave them a clear view of it without putting them in danger until it was time to go in. 

Sam settled into the ground, folding one leg underneath him and bending over the other, staring at the manor before he turned his attention back on Dean.  Dean took a seat cross-legged on the floor of their cover and prepared himself for the wait.  Dean might not be the most patient man in the world, but during a hunt his patience was absolute.  They’d both agreed to wait until it was almost dawn before heading in to find the demon.  Even if he didn’t keep his children there any longer, there were other powers about, lesser creatures that were at his call.

When it was time, Sam led Dean down to the Manor and in through a window in the kitchen.  The room was too hot, but Sam and Dean made it in without detection.  They moved through the Manor and Dean paused as he heard a loud moan through a doorway to their right.  He nodded to Sam and they made their way to the door.  Sam pulled it open and slipped in as Dean followed.  He nearly ran into him when Sam stopped suddenly, body crouched low as if to defend himself.

Dean’s mouth fell open as he realized what he was seeing.  The walls were lined with cage upon cage of prisoners.  Each was held secure in their cell, most barely moving, some actively snarling at them as they watched.  None of them look well fed and most sport bruises and blood stained clothes.  Sam was still crouched at his side, but he pulled slightly closer and Dean didn’t try to stop himself as he reached down and tangled his hand in Sam’s hair.  “Come on Sam, we gotta go.”

“Please,” Along the far wall a young woman reached her hand out from behind the bars of her prison.  “Please, let us out of here.”

Once she said it, others picked up her call and more were standing, trying to make themselves heard.  Sam looked at the door but Dean didn’t say anything, just got out his pick lock and started on the first lock.  It might not be his brightest move, but he was going to send them running for the door.  He had a demon to kill and he couldn’t get them out until that was done.  This was the best he could do for them.  After the demon was gone he and Sam could worry about the casualties.

He left three in their cages and when the first woman asked Dean just shook his head.  “You don’t want them with you.  They’re wrong.”  They weren’t evil exactly, but they weren’t right anymore either.  They were twisted into something Dean didn’t understand.  He wasn’t going to free them. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked her then.  She took a deep breath and looked at the others.  “I … we … we’re all psychics.”

“What does he want with you?”

“I don’t know.  He just said he was looking for the right one.”

“Head out the back and make your way to the eastern edge of the valley.  You’ll find a trail there that will lead you to the forest.  Get out and go to the Keep of the _Ordo Latro_.  They’ll take care of you, make sure the demon didn’t do anything else to hurt you.”  She nodded and Dean had no idea if she would or not, hell he hoped she ran as far as she could from the Order if they really were psychics.  “Get as many as you can out.”

She ran to the door where Sam was standing guard and he didn’t know what was said, but she waited on the others and Sam slipped out at the front of their line, leading them back to the kitchen.  A minute later Sam was back at this side.

“Well at least that will be a distraction,” Dean said softly.  Sam just nodded as they made their way out and into the hallway.  The place was eerily quiet and Dean wanted to back away but there was only going to be one chance with this.  His instincts told him something wasn’t right though.  It was too easy.

The second story was just as quiet, rooms opening into nothing more than storage and empty living space.  They were leaving one of the empty rooms when an explosion outside made the whole house shake.  Dean turned to look at Sam and Sam shrugged.  “I told her to be a good distraction.”

Dean wasn’t sure if he should curse him or kiss him, but the sound of heavy feet in the halls above made them both slip back into the room.  He could hear the shouts of men and women running out and when Dean ran to the window the courtyard before the manor house was in chaos.  One of the buildings was aflame and they were trying to put it out.  The men had noticed the fire was moving from person to person though, noticed that it wasn’t a natural fire and they started looking for the psychics who had been freed.

“Now De,” Sam called him away from the window and up the stairs to the third floor.  They ran down the hall, no longer playing at secrecy.  Sam crouched low as he stopped Dean suddenly, his face tense as he looked down at him.  “De,” he cleared his throat and looked down before meeting Dean’s eyes again.  “Dean, trust me, no matter what?”

“Of course Sammy.”

Sam threw open the door and dropped to the ground his stance the same he’d seen a hundred times since they’d met, only his eyes held fear and instead of keeping his head up to look at Dean, his eyes were down on the ground as he ran across the room almost on all fours.

“Sam, it looks like you finally earned your keep.”

The demon sat watching the devastation in the courtyard for a minute, one hand stroking idly through Sam’s hair and Sam leaned into the touch.  Dean felt his anger rising and he took a few steps forward before he felt an invisible wall keeping him back.

“The mighty Dean Campbell.  Or should I say Dean Winchester?  Its such a shame your father never claimed you.  It would have been such a stroke to his ego to watch you bow to me.”

“It’ll never happen demon.”

The demon turned to look at him, yellow eyes flashing above a small cruel smile.  “Your passion is attractive.  I can see why my son took a liking to you.  He showed me as much, after his first vision of you.”  He looked down at Sam, a fond look like one would give a prize pet.  “He was a disappointment for a very long time, but then came you Dean, a vision he said, a vision in black where you would open the world up for me.”

“Sam,” Dean looked at Sam but his lover wouldn’t look back at him and the bond between them was hazy, whether because of the demon or some trick Sam had always known, Dean had no idea.  Sam had asked for his trust but Dean had been alone for so damn long.  Could he trust Sam?  Were the demon’s words true?  Had Sam created something between them so he could bring him back, giving Dean over to the demon himself?

“Your gift is strong Dean, stronger than in any of the other psychics I’ve found.  It happens, when you use a gift as exclusively as you use yours, the way you stretch your sight every day to make the world enfold you.  I would have thought you dead when your mother’s death took your sight.  To know that it was my legacy that gave you this sight, that it was my actions that forced you to make yourself strong,” he laughed lightly, pulling at Sam’s hair until the man bared his teeth at the pain, “it’s intoxicating.”

He pulled his hand away from Sam and walked away from the window, eyes taking in Dean’s sightless face.  “And now, I can finally set my final plan in motion.”

“Just what do you think I’m gonna help you with?”

“You are going to open up a gateway for me hunter, a gateway to hell.”

“Over my dead body.”

Azazel stepped closer, pulling a knife from the desk beside him and smiled at Dean.  “Yes, actually, it will be.”   Sam whimpered behind him and the demon smiled.  “I think he grew fond of you Dean.  I’ve never seen my dog so unwilling to kill before.”

Dean couldn’t help but look back at Sam and as he did the man slowly stood, stretching his shoulders back to show off his full height.  “I don’t know,” Dean said with a smirk, “he looked ready to me.”

Azazel turned to look down at Sam only to find his beaten dog towering over him.  Sam growled deep in his throat and a hand lashed out towards Dean.  Whatever he did cut off the invisible wall that had been holding Dean and he staggered back a step. 

“You will obey me Sam.” The demon demanded.  “You are my child, mine, and you will not disappoint me again.”

Dean saw the way Sam flinched at the words but he Sam didn’t back down.  Instead, he smiled, a baring of teeth that wasn’t meant to be anything more.  “Should have paid better attention to your dog,” Sam said softly, “you would have known what was coming in the end.”

Dean didn’t want for another chance, but pulled the steel from his belt.  The demon heard it and turned to defend himself but Sam grabbed his arms and held him tight as Dean ran black steel through his heart.

Fire flared in the depths of the demon’s eyes, blue fire that seemed to eat it’s way through him.  Sam leaned in and whispered in his ear.  “I did have a vision of black, but it was never for you.” His eyes met Dean’s.  “He was always mine.  My vision of black steel and an end to you.”

There was no exhale of demon filth as Sam let go of the body and Dean stared at the sword in his hand before cleaning it quickly and sheathing it.  Dean undid the belt that held the sheath in place and handed it to Sam.  Sam just stared at him for a minute.  “Sam, it’s yours.  You deserve to wear it.”

Sam took two steps to close the distance and then his hands were pulling Dean in, their lips crashing together.  “Your Dean,” Sam murmured into his lips.  “Everything I am is yours.  You killed him.”

“We did Sam,” Dean said, staring up into Sam’s hazel eyes.  “We killed him.”

Sam gave him a small smile as he strapped the sword back at his waist.  “Need to help them De.” Sam beckoned to the window where another war was still waging, the loosed psychics against those that had been willing under the demon’s control. 

“You know what they say Sammy, there ain’t no rest for the wicked.”

It took almost four weeks to get them back to the Keep and Dean privately thought it was a good thing the psychics were all so tired and hungry.  They were terrified of the Keep, of the rumors of the _Ordo Latro_ but they were easy to control because of their time in the cages and the travel away from there.  The Order would make sure they were fed and Dean had faith that Bobby and Father Jim would make sure they were treated well, no matter what else happened. 

They’d been back almost three days before the Council had deigned to give him and audience and they’d tried to ban Sam at the door this time.  Dean refused to walk in without him and finally the head of the council relented. It was as much Sam’s story to tell as his after all, even if Sam still refused to speak in front of any of them but Bobby and Father Jim.

They were done with it now though, done with the report and as far as Dean could see, done with this fight.  Not that he could, or would, give up hunting, but there was more out there than just dancing on the Order’s strings.  Sam was at his back, bare feet slapping in a familiar pattern on the stone floors as they came to stand outside of Dean’s quarters.

His hand was on the door to open it when Sam growled slowly, announcing the visitor.  Dean looked up to see Elder Winchester coming towards him.  Dean took a deep breath and nodded to the Elder. 

“Dean, you can’t mean to do this.”

“I think my words were clear within the council’s chambers Elder.  Sam and I will be available if you need us in an emergency, but I’m done living in these halls.”

“There is a lot of work to do.”

“Yes there is and we’ll still be doing it.”

“We.  So you do mean to keep him with you.”  Dean crossed his arms over his shoulders and Sam leaned back against the wall in a casual manner that made Dean twitch.  “We cannot condone this Dean.  This man is half-wild and of unknown allegiance.  You can’t think a bond with him will ground you.”

“No, you mean I can’t think it will bind me to you.  And it won’t.  You want a way to tie me to the order you know how to do it Winchester,” Dean said with a sneer.  “All it takes is a simple claim, one you will never be willing to make.  I don’t need that anymore though.  I know who I am, and I know where I belong.  I don’t need the Order.  I have Sam and that’s all I need.”

“I can’t stop you, but know this Dean.  There will always be trouble between us, so long as Sam is here.”

Sam chose that moment to move up against Dean, pressing his front to Dean’s back and putting an arm over his chest in a sign of possession.  “It’s good to know where we stand,” Sam said with a smile Dean could feel in his words.  “Where Dean goes, I go.  Wherever you look for him, I’ll be there.  So long as he’s alive, I’ll be by his side.  Until you’re willing to let this go, I don’t expect we’ll be seeing much of you.”

Dean didn’t bother hiding his smile.  He wasn’t sure he could have anyway as he watched John Winchester’s mouth gape open in surprise at the talking wild man.  Dean reached up and patted Sam’s hand.  “Come on Sammy,” he said as they turned to walk out of the Keep.  “We’ve got work to do."

 

 


End file.
